Requiem
by WynterSnow
Summary: Griefstricken over the death of his wife, Luke almost makes a fatal mistake. Rated T for mild language and references. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This angsty little piece came to me late one restless night, and would not leave me alone until I wrote it down. Originally, it was intended to be a one-shot, but quickly became apparent that it would be too long for that, so it looks like it will total out to about four chapters. I didn't know what to call Jesse's wife, but I've seen the name Martha used a few times in fan fiction and it seems to suit her, so I hope I'm not stepping on any toes by using it here.

This story is drama, not much action or comedy, but a lot of angst. For my own ease in writing, I decided to forgo the usual presence of the balladeer/narrator. I know, not typical Dukes of Hazzard style, but I'm no good at narration pieces, so please forgive that point.

I have no set time period for this story. Suffice to say that it is some years after the series ended, yet not too far down the road. The boys have completed their probation and married, but Flash and Maudine are still alive. Most of the familiar characters make an appearance, but this is primarily Luke.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the Dukes of Hazzard or its characters, and I have accepted no compensation for this story. It is presented solely for the enjoyment of the readers and myself. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary:** Guilt-ridden and grief-stricken over the death of his wife, Luke almost makes a fatal mistake. Rated T for mild language and references.

* * *

**One**

Luke Duke stood quietly near the door of his uncle's old house, observing the gathering of mourners and friends who had come to pay their respects to his late wife and their condolences to him. The tiny house was filled to capacity, and was so crowded that it was difficult to move from one point to another without brushing up against someone else. The only place where there was some breathing room was near the door, where Luke had retreated in an attempt to escape the confining quality of the crowd. The last time the house had been this full was when his Aunt Martha had passed away.

Most of the guests, dressed in their Sunday finest, milled about the living room, exchanging greetings and remembrances, while others moved into the kitchen, where gifts of food had been spread on the table for all to partake. The small kitchen table was completely covered with casseroles, a huge baked ham, mountains of sweet potatoes and collard greens, homemade bread, a platter of golden fried chicken, and more pies and cakes than he could count. The sight of it was enough to turn his stomach.

Across the room, his cousin Bo was engaged in conversation with their old friend, Cooter Davenport, Hazzard's only auto mechanic. Rarely seen out of his oil-and-grease-stained work clothes, Cooter had shaved and cleaned himself up for the funeral, wearing clean trousers with a dress shirt and a tie, which he frequently tugged at in an apparent effort to breathe. Bo's lovely wife, Lisa Mae, was seated in one of the easy chairs near her husband.

Luke's eyes drifted lower to Lisa Mae's abdomen, swollen with the life that slumbered there, and he wistfully recalled the day that he and Bo had exchanged the news that their wives were pregnant. "Our youngin's can grow up playin' t'gether, like we done!" Bo had exclaimed happily. Lisa Mae would likely give birth within the next month, and Luke could only hope that her labor would go more smoothly and have a happier end than Cindy's.

With a sigh, his gaze traveled onward, settling on Deputy Enos Strate, who sat on the sofa with a big goofy grin on his face as he cooed at the newborn infant on his lap. Luke's cousin Daisy sat on his right side, leaning on his shoulder as she smiled at the tiny infant.

Deputy Cletus Hogg sat on her other side. "Ain't he just the purdiest thing?" he was saying.

"Boys ain't pretty, Cletus," Enos told him. "But he sure is the handsomest thing I ever did see!"

Uncle Jesse, the family patriarch, sat on the arm of the sofa on Enos's left, one finger gently stroking the baby's soft cheek. "That boy's a Duke through and through!" he said, proudly. "Look at that head o' hair! Just like his daddy. I had despaired of ever seein' youngin's t' carry on the family name before the good lord called me home, but this'n was definitely worth the wait. And we got another'n on the way!" he added, giving a wink to Lisa Mae.

Luke avoided looking at baby, and he heaved another sigh as he lowered his eyes until he was gazing at the worn rug that covered the floor of Jesse's living room. But he wasn't seeing the woven fabric; instead, the events that had led to this gathering replayed in his mind. It was his own son, the child conceived through the love he and Cindy had shared, yet he had difficulty accepting the reality that Cindy had died bringing the new life into the world.

Only two days ago, he had been in the delivery room ecstatically coaching Cindy through her arduous labor as she struggled to give birth to their son. What should have been a joyous occasion had suddenly turned into the worst day of his life when something had gone horribly wrong. The baby had been born in an alarming gush of bright red blood, and Luke had been hastily ushered from the room by a nurse while the doctors performed emergency surgery in an effort to save Cindy's life. Their efforts had failed. Numb with shock and grief, Luke had listened as the doctor had spoken in a solemn and professional tone. _"She had an imperfection in the lining of her uterus, which resulted in a rupture during the strain of delivery. It's very rare,"_ he had said. _"But it does sometimes happen. Usually, the rupture can be repaired or a hysterectomy performed, but in your wife's case the bleeding was too severe and too abrupt. She went into shock, and could not be revived. I'm very sorry."_

"_I'm very sorry."_ It was a phrase Luke had heard many times over the past two days, but it did nothing to bring him comfort. Cindy, the love of his life, was gone forever. No consoling words or sympathetic glances would bring her back or ease the pain of his loss. Even now, with his eyes riveted on the floor, he was aware of the covertly pitying glances from the men and women in the room who had noticed his lowered gaze. He knew that if he glanced up and met their gaze, the responses would be mixed. Some would offer an encouraging smile or a slight nod of acknowledgment, while others would quickly look away in obvious discomfort. Even good friends did not seem to know what to say to him, except _"I'm sorry"._

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to block the image of his wife's fatal hemorrhage from his mind. How could this have happened? In this day and age of modern technology, women weren't supposed to die having babies!

A sudden burst of laughter drew his attention, and his eyes narrowed dangerously as his gaze fell upon the one person in Hazzard whose presence offended him the most.

J. D. "Boss" Hogg was at the kitchen table, helping himself to the smorgasbord of food. Someone had thoughtfully brought plastic plates and silverware, so that the Duke family would not have the chore of washing dishes later, and the plastic plate that was clutched in Boss's hand was piled so high with food that Luke feared it would collapse from the weight. As he watched, Boss snatched a large slice of ham and, apparently reaching Luke's conclusion about the stamina of the plastic plate, he simply stuffed it in his mouth. As always, he was dressed in his white suite, looking like a cream puff in a sea of black suits.

His wife, Lulu, also sampled the variety of food, but in a more mannered fashion, and unlike her husband, she had dressed more appropriately for the occasion in a black print dress and black shoes. By contrast, Luke was genuinely fond of the overweight Lulu. In spite of the corrupted city government her husband ran, she was an unwavering supporter of the Duke family.

Lulu's brother, Rosco P. Coltrane, the county sheriff, followed along behind like an obedient puppy, sampling everything that Boss was enjoying. Initially a good lawman, Rosco had fallen into the corrupt pattern of his brother-in-law, and was co-conspirator to most of Boss's schemes.

Resentment surged through Luke as he observed the offending guest, and he felt his fist clinch at his side, wishing he could throttle the pudgy little man right then and there. He knew that the only reason Boss had come calling was for the food, but if ever there was a man unworthy of joining them for Cindy's funeral, it was Boss Hogg. For many years, he had been a burr under the Duke's saddle and a thorn in their sides. He had attempted to cheat them out of their farm, using one reprehensible scheme after another. He had devised plots in an attempt to revoke Bo's and Luke's probation, an act which would have sent them to prison. He had tampered with their vehicles during races. And he had attempted to blame many of his own illegal doings on them. For him to have the audacity to show his face at Cindy's funeral was an insult to her memory.

"Excellent ham," Boss exclaimed loudly with a mouth full of food. He reached for another slice. "Here, try some of this," he said to Lulu. "This is wonderful!"

Disgusted, Luke turned toward the door, but stopped when he felt something brush against his pant leg. Looking down, he found Flash, Rosco's aging basset hound, gazing up at him with drooping, sorrowful brown eyes, as if she understood his grief. She was still Rosco's constant companion, even though her advanced years were reflected in the gray hairs on her face and the obvious cataracts on her eyes. As he gazed down at her, she offered a tentative wag of her thick tail.

Sinking down on one knee, Luke solemnly stroked the silky hair on the old dog's head, and she pressed a warm, moist tongue against his wrist, as if trying to convey her sympathy.

Behind him, Rosco chortled with glee when he managed to snatch a tempting piece of fried chicken before Boss could grab it.

"Tell me something, Flash," he said quietly. "How did you ever hook up with that old fool, huh?"

Flash tossed her head back and uttered a soft baying sound in response.

"Ya don't say?" Luke replied, an attempt at levity that he did not feel. He was too tired and too sad to find any humor. Giving the hound a pat on her soft head, he stood up again and cast a quick glance over his shoulder as his hand rested on the doorknob. For the moment, everyone's attention appeared to be focused elsewhere, so he opened the door and slipped quietly outside.

Jesse saw the movement out of the corner of his eye, and he turned toward it just as his grieving nephew pulled the door closed behind him. The proud smile faded from the Duke patriarch's lips and his finger stilled against the baby's soft cheek, understanding the sorrow that his eldest nephew was experiencing.

Free of the constant din of conversation, Luke paused on the stoop to inhale a deep, soul-cleansing breath of fresh country air. The sun was high in the sky, but a low black cloud lay on the horizon, offering the promise of life-giving rain to the farmers' crops. Within a week of the rain showers, new grass would sprout all over the countryside, greening up the landscape. No matter what the misfortune, life would continue without missing a step, paying no mind to the fact that Luke's heart was breaking.

Tucking his forefinger behind the knot of his necktie, he tugged at it to loosen it as he stepped away from the house and waded through the maze of parked cars that filled the yard, walking toward the rail fence that formed the parameter of the small pasture where Maudine, Jesse's old bay mule, grazed in the warm sunshine with the goats.

Folding his arms on the top rail, he gazed across the farm on which he had been raised and allowed his mind to drive back to his youth. Even though he had been orphaned young, his had been a good life, a life filled with hard, honest work, childish play, and his share of misfortune, triumph, and tragedy, and many of the best years had been spent on this farm. Uncle Jesse and Aunt Martha had done their best to provide for all three of their young dependents, and Luke could not have asked for a better childhood.

But as the years had gone by and he and his cousins grew up, the time came for them to set out on their own lives. Much to their uncle's joy, Bo and Luke had finally settled down and taken wives. But cruel fate had intervened, and Luke now found himself alone again.

Heaving a deep sigh, he leaned forward to rest his forehead on his arms. Without Cindy, nothing mattered any more.

-()-

Jesse glanced at the clock on the mantle, and then looked toward the door again. It had been nearly twenty minutes since Luke had stepped outside. Throughout their lives, he had always insisted on giving the children the time and space to work out their own problems, often against the gently nurturing preferences of his wife, Martha, but on occasion, there came a time when it was necessary to intervene, and Jesse decided that this was one of those times.

Rising from the arm of the sofa, he approached the window overlooking the yard, and his eyes settled on his grieving nephew. The younger man's despondency was apparent in his slumped posture, and the way he occasionally dragged his fingers through his hair in apparent despair. Jesse gave a slight shake of his head. It was difficult to witness the suffering of any of the children he had raised, but it was a specific understanding as a widower himself, that made Luke's pain so difficult to watch.

Noticing the concern on his uncle's face, Bo excused himself from his conversation with Cooter, and wove his way through the crowd of guests toward the window. "Uncle Jesse?" he asked.

There was no need to elaborate. Jesse understood completely the question behind the simple query, but he did not answer verbally. Instead, he tipped his head toward the window, and, following the direction of his gaze, Bo looked outside to see what had attracted his attention. As he watched, his cousin, still leaning heavily on the rail fence, kicked absently at a tuft of grass beneath the bottom rail, a gesture that could reflect either boredom or frustration or both.

"This has all been pretty hard on him, but he's holdin' up pretty well, ain't he?" Bo said, admiringly. "Ya know, I have yet t' see 'im even shed a tear."

"That's what worries me," Jesse responded, quietly. "He's keepin' it all bottled up inside where it don't do nothin' 'cept fester. It ain't healthy havin' all them emotions fightin' t' get out. Eventually, it's gonna reach the breakin' point, an' I just hope one of us is there t' help pick up the pieces."

Bo shrugged, unconvinced that the signs pointed to his resilient cousin having any kind of a breakdown. "I don't know, Uncle Jesse. Luke's always kept his grief to hisself. He's lost good friends 'n other people who meant a lot to him, but he always dealt with it his own way, and he's always come through just fine."

"I know 'e has, but this is different. This time, he's lost someone who means the world to 'im, someone 'e would'a died for, someone he hoped to grow old with. That's a whole diff'rent kind o' love."

Bo cast a quick glance across the room at Lisa Mae, who was smiling patiently while Cooter enthusiastically described the newer, faster car engines that were on the market now, and felt a rush of the very love his uncle had just described. "Yeah, I know," he agreed. "I'd be plumb lost if anything happened to Lisa Mae."

Jesse patted Bo's arm with great affection. "Ya got yerself a good gal there, Bo."

"Yes sir."

"Both o' you boys did good." He turned his attention back to his other nephew. "Did ya know he ain't even touched that younin' o' his?"

A slight frown puckered Bo's brow as his gaze darted quickly to the baby, who was now being passed around from one woman to another, with Daisy following along protectively. "No, I didn't know that. Do you think he blames the baby for Cindy's death?"

Jesse pondered that thought for a moment. He hated to think that it might be the case, but he had no explanation for his behavior. "That's hard t' say. Luke ain't one t' go blamin' a helpless baby for somethin' like that, but it's for certain that somethin's festerin' inside that head o' his. I jes' don't know what it is, yet. We talked him into stayin' with us for a few days, so's we could keep an eye on 'im; ya know, make sure he's takin' proper care of hisself and that younin', but 'e picks at his food, an' I hear him pacing the floor durin' the night. He ain't eaten more'n a few bites in two days, and he ain't sleeping, neither. He's wore plumb out. I'm worried about him, Bo."

Bo nodded. He could see that in the worry lines on his uncle's careworn face. "Want me t' talk to 'im?"

"No. You boys've always been practically inseparable ever since ya first come to me, but 'less 'n ya been through somethin' like this yerself, you cain't begin to understand what he's feelin'. It's a hurt that goes deeper than the heart; it cuts right to the soul, like a part of yer own self has died right along with yer loved one. Best I should speak to 'im."

Bo nodded his agreement. For the first time in his life, he had no earthly idea what he could have said to his cousin to cheer him up, for he still had the thing Luke had lost; a wife he loved dearly.

The older man opened the door and stepped outside, and walked toward his nephew. He was moving a bit slower these days, plagued by the arthritis that had crept into his spine, aggravated by a lifetime of hard work, but he never complained to anyone. Not Jesse Duke. Pride was a powerful thing, and Jesse had been given his full helping.

When he reached his nephew's side, he stood silently for several moments observing him. There was a strangely haunted look in Luke's blue eyes as he gazed out over the fields in which he had worked and played during his youth, but Jesse was careful to notice that those eyes were still dry.

Luke sensed his presence, and spoke first. "Sorry to leave the party, Uncle Jesse. I just couldn't stand bein' inside that house a minute longer. Too many people givin' me those looks, like they don't know what to say to me . . . And Hogg 'n his lackey pollutin' the place with their attendance."

Jesse's voice was gently reproachful. "Now, Luke, mustn't speak ill of yer elders like that. J. D. came by t' pay his respects."

He was startled by the flash of annoyance in Luke's blue eyes when he glanced quickly at him, then turned his attention to the fields of gently waving pasture grass. "Respects, hell," he retorted, gruffly. "He came by for the food, 'n you know it."

"Yer jes' tired, Luke. That's why yer temper's so frazzled. I heard ya pacing again las' night. You ain't sleepin' proper."

That was a fact, and Luke gave a slight nod of acknowledgement. Cindy's death haunted every waking hour, but the horrible, vivid dreams were the worst. The only way to avoid them, it seemed, was to stay awake. "I just haven't been able to sleep much," he replied. He placed one foot on the bottom rail and worked it back and forth, revealing that it was loose. "I'll fix this for ya before I leave," he offered, then raised his voice again as the topic returned to Boss Hogg. "That man don't belong here, Uncle Jesse. His bein' here is an insult."

"Cindy was a good woman and I'm sure she'd be forgivin' of his presence, but regardless, he's here and we'll show our good manners by bein' polite." His gentle but firm tone of voice left no room for debating the subject, but he paused briefly, providing ample time for Luke to respond. When he didn't, he said, "Luke, I know what yer feelin' right now. I went through the same thing when my Martha passed on, but I promise ya, things'll get better."

Luke was silent for a long moment as he pondered his uncle's words. The words were intended to offer comfort in the fact that as life went on, the pain of loss would ease, but at that moment, Luke could not see that far ahead. He could not imagine facing a life without Cindy. "I don't know if I can go on without her, Jesse. I never imagined that I could love someone as much as I love her. Without her, I feel so empty inside, like I'm just a hollow shell. I pray every night that the good Lord will take me too, so I can be with her, but He ain't answerin' my prayers."

A chill shivered down Jesse's spine at the unexpected depth of Luke's grief. Reaching out, he placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, only to have the hand shaken off as his nephew abruptly moved away, fearing that too much sympathy and understanding from his uncle would cause him to break down completely, and he was not yet ready for that.

Jesse's rheumy old eyes followed the younger man as he moved away a few feet, but did not pursue it, choosing to give him the space he apparently needed. "He gave you yer answer, son. It may not be the answer ya want right now, but it's the answer ya got. You have responsibilities right here, and yer primary responsibility is takin' care of that youngin' o' yours. That little boy needs his daddy."

Luke blinked rapidly several times, and even though his face was turned away from him, Jesse knew he was blinking back tears, the first hint of emotion that he had seen out of him. _Let it out, son; just let it out,_ the older man silently advised.

Ignoring Jesse's unspoken advice, Luke drew a deep breath and reclaimed his composure. "He's got you and Bo and Daisy and Lisa Mae. He don't need me."

"That ain't no way t' be talkin', Luke," Jesse said. "Bo 'n Lisa Mae are gonna be havin' their own youngin' soon, 'n Daisy's gonna be headin' back to college in a few days. An' I'm too old t' be carin' for a newborn. That little one is your responsibility, Luke. You're his daddy."

Luke sighed, heavily, but did not answer except to shake his head, slightly. Again, Jesse was aware of that haunted look in his nephew's eyes, a look he had never seen before. This went beyond losing Cindy. What was it that was torturing him so?

"I know yer hurtin'; yer hurtin' real bad. You feel like everything good and pure in the world has been snuffed out. I loved that girl too. I loved her 'cause of the joy you found in yer life with her, but I knew her well enough to know that she wouldn't want you doin' nothin' foolish. She'd want you to be here raisin' yer son. That little boy is the physical evidence of the love you both shared, yet you ain't so much as touched 'im. You ain't even given 'im a name!"

Luke squirmed uncomfortably under his uncle's stern gaze and mildly condemning words. He wanted to unburden himself of the guilt he felt, but did not even know where to begin.

Jesse knew that he was struggling with some unresolved inner demon. "Talk to me, Luke," he encouraged. "Tell me what it is that's eatin' you up inside."

Luke squirmed again, knowing that he could never explain it in a way that Jesse would understand. Jesse thought he understood his grief, but he couldn't have any idea what it was like watching the life's blood gush out of the body of the partner you had chosen for life. "Every time I look at him, I see the way he came into this world in a rush of blood. Cindy's blood. She died giving life to my son."

Jesse's expression hardened and his voice was gruff as he scolded, "Now you listen t' me, Lucas Duke, and you listen good! That tiny baby ain't responsible for what happened to his mama! Don't you even think about blamin' him for that!"

"I don't," Luke answered quietly. "I blame myself. It's my fault that Cindy's dead, an' every time I look at that baby, I'm reminded of the fact that I'm the one who got her pregnant. I'm the one who caused her death!" Tears glistened in his eyes, but he brushed a hand quickly across his eyes to stop them. "She wanted a baby so bad, but I hadn't given in, she'd still be alive!"

With those words hanging in the air behind him, Luke slipped between the fence rails and walked into the pasture.

"That's just plumb foolishness, Luke!" Jesse called after him, stunned by Luke's startling revelation. "You ain't thinkin' clear! You weren't responsible for her dyin' like that! Luke!"

"I don't want to talk right now, Jesse," Luke said over his shoulder. His voice had calmed, indicating that he had regained his self-control. "Go back inside."

Jesse gazed after him for a long time, hoping he would come back so he could reason with him, but his nephew obviously wanted no part in that. He had come outside to find some time to himself, so the Duke family patriarch decided to respect that desire for the moment. "All right, son. We'll let it go fer now. But we're gonna have a good long talk about this later."

Luke knew the old man meant it. There was no running away from Jesse Duke, so he would eventually have to face it. Just not right now.

Casting one final glance over his shoulder at the despondent man, Jesse returned to the house.

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

Luke returned to the house in time to acknowledge the guests as they were leaving, but it was a purely obligatory gesture, and he was aware of Jesse's watchful eye on him throughout the whole event. Clearly, he had said enough to cause his uncle worry.

Most of the departing guests were a blur of faces as they made their way through the door, offering condolences and shaking hands. Luke dutifully thanked each one for their sympathy.

Cooter approached the door with eyes averted, and when he stopped before his newly-widowed friend, he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. For a moment, Luke thought he was going to throw his arms around him, but he just shrugged his shoulders and said, "Well, I'll be seeing 'round, Luke. Take care, ya hear?"

"Sure thing, Cooter," Luke replied. "Thanks for comin'."

When Boss Hogg reached the door, Luke was grateful to see that the pudgy little man had filled three plastic plates to capacity and was balancing them in both hands, and was therefore able to avoid shaking his hand. "Too bad about your little lady," Boss was saying, the closest thing to outright sympathy that he could muster for someone other than himself. "I hear she was a nice gal."

Luke's lips tightened for a moment, then he felt a nudge from Jesse's elbow, and managed a slight nod of acknowledgement. "She was," he agreed.

Rosco was carrying Flash, a long, solid dog that required both arms, so instead of shaking his hand, Luke petted the dog's silky head. "Thank you for coming," he said to the hound.

Lulu was next, and with tears shimmering in her eyes, she took him into her arms for a hug that nearly crushed his ribs. "Oh, Luke. I will truly miss that sweet girl."

"Thank you, Miss Lulu," Luke replied, stoically.

"You take comfort in that precious baby boy. He's a part of her, you know." Patting his cheek affectionately, she offered a trembling smile and then followed her husband to the waiting convertible with its ridiculous looking steer horns on the hood. Boss's chauffer jumped out of the driver's seat to open the vehicle door for his employers.

Enos was the last person out the door. Like Cooter, he approached with his eyes averted, and his expression of sorrow was so great that Luke could barely look at him. "I'm awful sorry, Luke."

_There's those words again_, Luke thought.

The deputy looked up, briefly meeting Luke's gaze, then he averted his eyes again and fumbled uncomfortably with his hat. "I'm goin' back on duty now, but if ya need anything, anything at all, you give me a holler, okay?"

"I appreciate that, Enos," Luke replied, dutifully.

Enos lingered a moment longer, as if trying to think of something else to say, then pushed open the screen door and walked to his waiting patrol car.

Turning, Luke caught a furtive glance from Bo, who looked away quickly when their eyes met. _Great_, Luke thought, resentfully. _He's been talkin' to Jesse._

Jesse stood silently watching through the screen as the vehicles slowly filed out of the yard, lifting his hand to those who waved through their car windows. When Martha had died, he had hoped he would never have to attend another Duke family wake. He was the last of the Duke elders, and these events were getting harder and harder to attend, especially when the one they had laid to rest was so young.

When the last car was gone, he slowly pushed the door closed, and turned to look at his family. Lisa Mae was sitting quietly in the easy chair, looking slightly pale as her hand stroked her rounded abdomen as if to sooth the infant that slept inside.

"Are you all right, Lisa Mae?" he asked with concern.

She managed a slight smile. "I'm fine, Uncle Jesse. He's just a little restless."

Luke went to the sofa and collapsed on it with a grateful sigh. He hated being on display like that, especially at such a vulnerable time. "I'm glad that's over," he gruffly said to no one in particular.

Bo emerged from the kitchen with a glass of water for Lisa Mae, and sat down on the arm of the chair as he offered the glass to his wife. She accepted it with a quietly murmured "Thanks, honey". He continued to sit on the arm of the chair, his left arm draped over the backrest.

For a long time, no one spoke, and the only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock as its hands slowly worked their way along the face of the instrument on the mantle.

Daisy went into her bedroom to check on the baby, who had been transferred to his crib, and returned moments later. After Cindy's death, Bo had fetched the crib from the baby's room in Luke's house and temporarily moved it into Daisy's bedroom, so that she could look after him until Luke was able to take over the care of him. Satisfied that the infant was still sleeping soundly, she sank down on the other end of the sofa.

Restlessly, Luke picked up a magazine that was lying on the lamp table and glanced at the cover. It was one of Daisy's women's magazines, so he tossed it back on the table, then leaned back and laid his head against the backrest, rubbing his eyes wearily with his fingers. He was exhausted. His body was begging for sleep, but he dared not close his eyes to rest; the images he did not want to see kept replaying like a bad horror movie.

Bo watched him discretely, wishing there was something he could do to ease his grief. His fatigue was apparent in his drawn face, and there were dark circles around his eyes that had not been there before.

As Luke had suspected, Jesse had told him in private about their conversation when he had returned to the house, and it worried him. Although they had grown up together and he knew Luke better than anyone else, there were some things about the dark haired man that remained a mystery to him, and personal grief was one of the areas in which Luke had always kept him at arm's length.

Glancing at Luke again, Bo found that his cousin was looking at him, pointedly, as if aware that his was being watched. That penetrating gaze made him uncomfortable, and he managed a slight smile, then looked away. Noticing that his wife had emptied the glass of water, he asked, "Are you through with that?"

"Yes," she replied.

He took it from her, and carried it back to the kitchen, but he could still feel Luke's eyes on his back.

Luke watched with mounting resentment as Bo walked into the kitchen. His discomfort and the fact that he was sticking around left no doubt in his mind that Jesse had sought his help in consoling him, consoling that Luke neither wanted nor would encourage. "Go home, Bo," he said abruptly, drawing a shocked look from Daisy on the other end of the sofa. "I know yer just stickin' around on my account."

Bo returned to the living room, startled by the brusque command. "Well, I just . . . " He glanced at Lisa Mae, then at Uncle Jesse, before looking back at Luke. "I thought maybe you and I could talk for a spell."

"I don't want to talk," Luke retorted. "To you or anyone else. Yer wife is tired. You'd best get her on home, so she can rest."

Bo tried not to feel offended. It was, after all, Luke's grief and obvious exhaustion that was behind his rather rude words. His eyes came to rest on Lisa Mae again, and observed that she was indeed worn out. The stress of the funeral and wake had sapped her strength. "Luke, Lisa Mae and I was wonderin' if maybe you'd come stay with us for a few days."

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm goin' home to my own house tonight." _Mine and Cindy's house_, he thought, as his eyes slid to the floor again. He was more acquainted with that tattered rug now than when he had played on it as a child.

"We have plenty of room, Luke," Lisa Mae encouraged.

"I know what ya'll are tryin' to do, and I appreciate it, but in your condition, Lisa Mae, the last thing you need is to be lookin' after me. I'll be all right by myself."

"Wouldn't be no trouble," Bo urged. "C'mon. I thought maybe you and me could work on the engine of that old station wagon Lisa Mae's daddy bought for her. It'd be like old times. What'd ya say?"

"I'm not really in the mood, Bo. I think I'll just go on home."

"No yer not," Jesse intervened. He had listened quietly while Bo attempted to convince Luke to stay with him and to interest him in working on Lisa Mae's vehicle, and he had hoped that he would agree. Becoming involved in fixing up that old station wagon would help take his mind off Cindy, and hopefully set him on the road to recovery, but it seemed that Luke was not going to respond favorably, and the last thing he wanted was for him to be alone right then. "If yer not gonna accept Bo's invitation, then you 'n that youngin' o' yers are stayin' right here with me 'n Daisy."

"Uncle Jesse," Luke protested. "I've already been here for two days. It's time to go home. I got things that need doin'."

"All o' them things can wait a few more days. Yer stayin', 'n that's final!"

"Better not argue, Luke," Daisy warned. "We'll tie you down if we have to."

Luke raised his hands in surrender, but his expression indicated that he was not thrilled with the arrangement. All he wanted was to get home to grieve in private for a spell, something that his family seemed determined not to allow him to do.

"Well, all right, then," Bo said, reluctantly, clearly torn between his devotion to his cousin and his responsibility to his pregnant wife. "If it's settled, I'll take Lisa Mae on home so she can rest a spell. Be sure an' call me if you need me for anything. Anything at all," he repeated for emphasis.

"We will, Bo," Jesse assured him. He turned to Lisa Mae, who was being assisted to her feet by her husband. "We're glad you could come."

She managed a weak smile, wiping away a tear that fell from her eye. "Cindy and I were good friends. I wouldn't have missed being here." Her gaze rested on Luke a moment longer, understanding, as Jesse did, that he was not holding up as well as the outward appearance he presented. Needing to offer comfort, she moved toward him, and he stood up to accept her embrace. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she began to cry softly.

Luke's arms went about her shaking shoulders, but he looked straight ahead and swallowed a couple of times as Lisa Mae wept against his shoulder. Bo shifted uncomfortably. His wife's distress was causing a painful lump to come up in his throat.

"It's gonna be okay, Luke," she told him when she had regained control of herself and drew back. Reaching up, she gently caressed his cheek with her hand, marveling that there were no tears there. "She loved you so much."

He looked down again. "Thank you, Lisa Mae."

Bo went to Luke and placed his arms around him, never knowing how close this gesture of affection came to bringing his cousin to tears. "I hate leavin' ya like this, Luke," Bo said. "I wish you'd reconsider."

The two men parted, and both took a step back. Luke averted his eyes, hiding from Bo the fact that he had almost teared up. "I'll be fine, Bo. Jus' go on home."

"I'll come back by later this evening," Bo suggested. "See how yer doin', an' maybe we can sit for a spell and talk over a cold one."

"No need for that," Luke objected as he sank down on the sofa again. "Just go home and take care o' yer wife." After a brief pause, he added, "Don't ever take her for granted, Bo."

Bo looked helplessly at Jesse. He wanted desperately to help Luke, but was powerless to do so.

"It'll be okay," Jesse assured him. "You go on ahead, an' I'll call you later."

Grudgingly, Bo opened the door and he and his wife left. Luke turned his head slightly, as if drawn to the sound of Bo's car as it faded away.

Jesse gazed at his nephew for several moments, debating whether or not to have that talk he had spoken of earlier. Luke deliberately avoided looking at him, clearly trying to evade such a discussion. Finally, Jesse relented. He would talk to him when the time was right, and now was not the time. Unwilling to sit and listen to the silence any longer, he turned to the overloaded table. "Well, I guess I'd better clear out some space in that refrigerator, so's we can start getting' them leftovers put away."

Daisy got up off the sofa. "I'll help you." Turning to Luke, she said, "Why don't I fix you a plate before we put them away?"

"No, thanks."

"Luke, you ain't eaten nothin' in days," she protested. "You need –"

"I said I ain't hungry!" he snapped. He saw the resentful expression that flashed across her face which concealed the hurt in her eyes, and he instantly regretted his temper. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bite yer head off. I just don't want anything right now."

Her expression softened somewhat, but he could see that she was still offended. She started toward the kitchen, but was stopped by the sound of the baby crying. She turned toward Luke to see if he would react, but he did not even move.

She exchanged a worried look with Jesse, then went into the bedroom to see to the baby's needs. Jesse opened the refrigerator door and rummaged around noisily. "How long has this been in here?" he asked himself. Opening the Styrofoam container, he took a sniff. "Too long," he answered. "Luke, would you fetch me one o' them plastic trash bags from the cupboard?"

Covering his annoyance at being disturbed, Luke stood up and went into the kitchen. He had left the old house years earlier, but remembered that Jesse kept the garbage bags in the cupboard under the sink, so he bent over and pushed the kitchen cleaners out of the way, and pulled a bag from its box. Rising up again, he took it to the refrigerator and held it out to Jesse. "Here."

Jesse looked at it, his hands full of items that he wanted to discard, and asked, "Well, would you open it please?"

He opened it up and held it while Jesse tossed several Styrofoam containers of leftovers into it. Then he set it on the floor. Looking down at his black suit, he said, "I hate bein' dressed like this. I'm going to get changed."

"Okay."

He moved toward the room he had shared with Bo during their youth, but as he passed Daisy's door, he heard a soft whimpering sound. Pausing in the doorway, he watched Daisy positioned the diaper around the infant's waist and fastened the tabs.

"There ya go," she said, cheerfully. "Now you're nice and dry and comfy."

Had the circumstances been different, Luke would have been compelled to smile, knowing that his cousin would make a wonderful mother some day, but all he could feel now was his own inadequacy. _What kind of father would I make?_ he wondered. _I don't even know how to change a diaper! He would be better off with Daisy than with me._

Daisy picked up the baby and turned around, spying him by the door. "Luke?" she said, surprised and encouraged by what she perceived to be the first indication of interest that he had shown toward the baby. "Do you want to hold him?"

"Um, no." He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. "I need to get out of these duds and into something more comfortable."

He saw the disapproval in her eyes, but he did not linger to debate the issue. He was in no mood for an argument. Turning away, he hurried into his old bedroom, and pushed the door closed a little more forcefully than necessary, wincing as it slammed behind him.

He paused to draw a deep breath. For a few moments, at least, he was alone. He knew it would not last, though. If he remained longer than a few minutes, someone would be banging on the door asking if he was all right. How could he tell them that they were smoothing him with their concern and their sympathy?

With a brusque gesture, he tucked his finger behind the knot of his tie and yanked it free and dropped it onto the nearest of the two twin beds. Then, he slipped out of the blazer and tossed it down beside the tie. The rest of his suit clothes soon followed, and he changed into his more comfortable jeans, a soft work shirt, and his favorite pair of well-worn cowboy boots. This was how he preferred to dress, and how Cindy had enjoyed seeing him.

Hopelessness rose inside him, burning behind his eyes, but he tamped it back down, refusing to succumb. As eager as he had been to escape Jesse's watchful eye, he was grateful to his uncle for talking him into staying another night. He wasn't sure he was ready to face that empty house yet.

He sank down on the bed, allowing his mind to briefly return to happier times. This was his old bed, the one in which he had slept since the first day he had arrived in Jesse's home so many years earlier. The other bed belonged to Bo. Here, they had played checkers by flashlight under the covers, and talked about their first experiences with girls, and laughed about their pranks until Jesse had ordered them to hush. Here, they had spent the usual childhood illnesses under the watchful eye of Aunt Martha, and where they had recovered after the time they had found Uncle Jesse's stash of moonshine.

A soft rap on the door broke into his thoughts, and he jerked his head toward it, startled by its abruptness. "Luke, honey, are you okay?" It was Daisy, checking up on him.

A twinge of irritation went through him. What would it take to get more than a few minutes of alone-time? "I'm just changing clothes, Daisy," he replied. "Be right out."

"Okay."

He rubbed his fingers in his weary eyes again. He should lie down and take a nap, but felt too restless and keyed up for that, so he stood up and returned to the front room.

Jesse was still hunched over the shelves in the open refrigerator. Daisy was walking slowly around the kitchen table, gently rocking the infant in her arms to sooth him. Luke experienced a twinge of guilt that he was neglecting his responsibility of caring for his child. He also knew that, at the very least, he should be helping Jesse put away the leftover food that was still scattered about the kitchen table. But instead of doing either, his eyes focused on the door and viewed it as an avenue of escape for a few minutes. Without a word, he opened the door and went outside.

Daisy turned around and watched him leave, and with the baby in her arms, she moved to the window and watched as Luke walked slowly toward the barn. "What are you up to, Luke?" she murmured to herself.

"Where's he goin'?" Jesse asked, rising up from the refrigerator shelves.

"He's walkin' out t'wards the barn."

"Well, there's nothin' out there he can hurt hisself with. I done hid the moonshine in the coop, so's he wouldn't get his hands on it. Sometimes, whiskey and grief don't mix," he added, knowingly. "And this is one o' them times." He stuck his head back in the refrigerator. "We'll jes' leave 'im be fer a spell. I'll talk to him later, when he's a bit more receptive of it."

"I'll try to get the baby back to sleep, an' then I'll come help you in there," Daisy offered. "I sure wish he'd give this baby a name, so we'd know what t' call 'im," she added as she returned to the bedroom with the infant.

-()-

Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance as Luke slowly walked toward the barn. The clouds on the horizon were advancing closer to Hazzard, and already he could smell the clean scent of rain on the breeze. They would see rain showers before nightfall.

The door to the large barn was open wide, revealing Jesse's rusty old tractor, which was parked in the center of it. A few hens strutted on the ground beneath it and around it, scratching and pecking at the dirt floor in search of grain.

His eyes came to rest on the grain bin where Jesse stored his moonshine. He wasn't much of a drinking man anymore, for Cindy had not approved, but he sure could do with a stiff belt right about then. Moving toward the bin, he nudged one of the hens on the rump with the side of his boot to move her out of the way, and she squawked in protest as she scrambled away from him. He grasped the handle on the grain bin and lifted the lid to look inside. It was filled with chicken feed, but he knew that Jesse sometimes covered his jugs with grain to conceal it from the law and from thieves. Pushing his hand down through the feed, he groped around for the jugs that were not there.

His sigh of disappointment was loud in the quiet of the barn. Jesse must have moved it, probably to keep him out of it. Sometimes, that old man knew him better than he knew himself. He dropped the lid back into place with a loud bang that sent the chickens scattering in all directions. With his hands on his hips, he looked around the barn, wondering where his uncle would have hidden his jugs, but there weren't many likely places inside that rickety old structure, other than the loft, and with Jesse's arthritis, he knew the older man was unlikely to climb up there.

Another distant rumble of thunder reverberated across the landscape, and Luke wandered out of the barn and observed the dark cloud that continued to move toward them. Then his eye caught sight of the other structure, the one behind the barn. The one he and Bo had constructed several years earlier. Protected beneath it, was a tarp covered vehicle. For the first time since Cindy's death, he felt a flicker of interest, and without hesitation, he moved toward it.

Funny, he had not thought about it since he had been here. Constructed of weathered gray lumber, the carport was solid on the south and west sides to hold the scorching sun at bay, but had been deliberately left open in the north and east side to prevent heat from building up during the hot Georgia summers.

As he entered the structure, he grasped one edge of the tarp and pulled it away from the vehicle, revealing a shiny orange car with a big O1 on the side, the name _GENERAL LEE_ stenciled above the doors, and a huge Confederate flag on the top that gleamed as beautifully as the day Cooter had placed it there.

He allowed the tarp to fall onto the ground behind the car. "General, you are a sight for sore eyes," he said, a smile coming to his lips for the first time in two days.

Lovingly, he stroked his hand along the smooth orange paint. Years earlier, the orange stock car had been his and Bo's pride and joy. They had always kept the engine tuned to perfection, and had spent many hours together tinkering with it and washing and waxing it. It had rewarded them with its service, winning races and streaking across the back roads with speed that was unequaled in the county. There were no nicks or blemishes on the paint job. He and Bo had driven the car hard, acquiring many dings and dents, but somehow they always managed to scrape up the money for repairs.

Because the doors were welded shut, Luke climbed into the vehicle through the window and settled into the driver's seat, placing his hands on the familiar steering wheel, and remembering how it felt to guide the powerful vehicle through the backcountry roads.

On impulse, he leaned back so that he could push his hand into his front pocket, and his fingers closed around his keys, warm with his body heat. Withdrawing them from the pocket, his eyes fell upon the seldom used silver colored key, holding it up to examine it fondly. The key to the General Lee. He had Bo each had one attached to their key rings, souvenirs of their younger days. It was an impractical vehicle for family use, but they had been unable to part with it, so by mutual agreement, they had built the carport and stored it there. The last time they had taken it out for a spin was the day they had celebrated their impending fatherhood, seven months earlier.

He inserted they key into the ignition, and turned it. The powerful engine roared to life without hesitation, inspiring a surge of excitement. "Eager for a spin there, are ya, General?" he asked.

Inside the house, Jesse and Daisy had been placing the leftovers in containers, and they looked at each other when they heard the engine start.

"That sounds like the General Lee," Daisy said.

Dropping the containers she was holding onto the countertop, she went to the door and looked out, but could not see the vehicle for the barn. A moment later, she felt Jesse's warm breath behind her, watching over her shoulder. "What's that boy up to?" he wondered aloud.

Luke tapped the foot feed lightly, revving the engine. The vehicle responded instantly with increased rpms. Then he shifted the car into drive and eased it carefully out of the carport. Once free of the structure, he accelerated up the dirt drive.

Daisy felt her heart leap with dread as the flashy vehicle sped away from the house. The General fishtailed slightly as its driver turned it onto the road, and then gained speed as it disappeared from view.

She turned to look into her uncle's face. "Oh, Uncle Jesse. I had no idea he'd take the General Lee out."

"Neither did I, but I reckon I should've. Them boys loved that old car. Stands to reason he'd seek solace there," he said, sadly.

"He's in no fit state of mind to be drivin'! Especially a car as powerful as the General!"

"I know, but I'm afraid there's nothin' we can do 'cept let him go. If'n we tried to catch him, it'd just make him go faster. I'll see if I can raise him on the CB, urge him to keep it a reasonable speed." Going to the countertop where he kept his CB, Jesse grasped the microphone and spoke the words he had not used in years, "Shepherd to Lost Sheep, Shepherd to Lost Sheep. Come back." He listened to the silence for several moments, then asked, "Luke, ya there?"

In the General Lee, Luke glanced down at the CB radio. He had heard the worry in his uncle's voice, and after a moment, he picked it up. "I'm okay, Jesse. I just need some space, and I'm not gettin' it there. Yer both hoverin' over me like a pair of hens."

Jesse puffed up indignantly. "We ain't hoverin', an' I ain't no hen!"

"Figure of speech," Luke replied. "I just want to be alone for a spell, and this is the only way I know how to get it."

"Alone's the one place you don't need t' be right now," Jesse protested. "Luke, come on back home. I'm too old fer this kind o' worry."

Luke hesitated a moment. He knew his uncle, however tough and resourceful, was getting up in years, and it wasn't his intention to cause him worry. He just needed to be alone for a while. "Sorry, Uncle Jesse." He reached down and turned off the radio.

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thanks for the kind reviews. They mean a lot. I almost didn't post it here, because I wasn't sure how people would react to this story, since it is a deviation from canon, but the reviews have been very positive, and I appreciate it.

* * *

**Three**

The rumbling of the distant thunder was gradually growing nearer to Hazzard County.

Parked inside a brushy area of Rural Route 9, Enos glanced out the window toward the darkening horizon, and silently begged the rain to hold out for just a few more hours until he would be off duty and back at home. The storm had been threatening for some time now, but seemed to be advancing slowly. He glanced at his watch: Just a few more hours.

He had been placed in this position by Rosco, hoping to nail a few speeders passing through the county, but so far the road was quiet, with very little traffic passing his way. Enos was glad. He just didn't have the heart to issue citations on the day of a funeral. He had only seen one vehicle in the past hour, Widow Hanson driving her old 1957 Bel-Air well beneath the speed limit. Parked in the brush, she had not even noticed him as she rambled on down the road toward her small farm, so he had allowed her to pass on by without revealing his presence.

Turning his attention away from the gathering rain clouds, Enos turned the page of the novel he was reading to pass the time. It was a suspense thriller, one of those books that absolutely captivates its readers, and the mild-mannered cop was totally engrossed in the mystery that was playing out on the printed pages. All was quiet, until ----

Without warning, a powerful vehicle roared by so fast that the book jumped out of his startled hands and dropped onto his lap. He looked up quickly, but barely caught a glimpse of orange paint before the car disappeared around the bend in the road. There was no question about the identity of the vehicle, since no other car in the county sounded quite like it, or the driver, a fact which surprised him almost as much as its sudden appearance.

"Possum on a gum bush!" Enos exclaimed, his favorite expletive.

It had been a long time since he had seen the General Lee, and although he hated to do it, given the solemn events of the day, the deputy knew he could not let this one go past without a confrontation. The speed at which Luke was traveling was simply too dangerous, both for him and for anyone else who might cross his path. Tossing the book from his lap to the seat beside him, he flipped on his lights and siren and pulled out of his hiding place in pursuit of the car.

Inside the General Lee, Luke heard the siren and glanced in his rearview mirror to find the deputy's patrol car coming around the curve behind him, and gaining fast. "Where'd you come from?" he wondered aloud.

Enos continued to move closer, until he was right on the General's bumper. He was motioning for Luke to pull over.

In his grief and his weariness, Luke was in no mood to deal with the kindly police officer. Spinning the steering wheel abruptly, he turned the vehicle onto a narrow dirt side road. "Eat my dust, Enos," he said, pressing the accelerator. The General responded with a burst of speed, and the police vehicle disappeared into the cloud of dust kicked up by the race car's wheels.

Shaking his head with concern, Enos backed off to improve visibility and switched his police radio to the CB band. "Luke, I don't wanna have to give you a ticket today, buddy. Just slow down, 'n I'll let you go, okay?" He paused to give Luke time to respond. When he didn't, he continued, "Luke, what're you doin'? You need to slow down; this here's a dangerous stretch of road!" He paused again, but again there was only silence on the radio. "Dang it, Luke, pull over!"

The order was firm and professional, but the General Lee did not obey his instructions to pull over. Through the cloud of dust he saw the brake lights come on as Luke maneuvered the speeding car around the first curve.

With his radio off, Luke was unable to hear Enos's commands, but it was obvious from the lights and siren that the deputy wanted him to pull over, something he had no intention of doing. He was tired, way too tired to be driving that fast, a fact that he was well aware of, but instead of slowing down or pulling over, he pressed the accelerator harder, determined to shake loose from the patrol car.

The trees flashed past him in a dizzying blur of green and bronze, and the sound of the wind whipping through the open windows seemed to have a numbing effect on his mind. The next curve was coming up, and he was almost into it before his weary eyes recognized it. He wrenched the wheel around, and skidded through the curve. He shook his head and blinked forcefully in an attempt to improve his alertness.

"Luke, you dang near missed that curve!" Enos pleaded into the microphone. "I ain't kiddin', now! Pull over!"

At the Duke farm, Jesse and Daisy had been listening to the transmissions with growing concern, and they exchanged alarmed glances at the urgency in Enos's voice. They could hear his siren wailing in the background during his communication, and it was easy to deduce that Luke was not obeying the order to pull over.

Reaching for the CB again, Jesse said, "Enos, this here's Jesse. I've been tryin' to reach him too, but I think he's turned off his CB. Where are ya? What's he doin'?"

"I'm on that old farm road up near the old sorghum mill off Route 9, and General Lee just shot past me goin' way too fast for this road. He knows I'm behind 'im, but 'e ain't pullin' over. He's pullin' away fast!"

"The sorghum mill?" Jesse said to no one in particular, but because he had not pressed the transmission button, Daisy was the only one who heard the query. "What's he doin' up there?"

"I don't know, but that's a dangerous road," Daisy replied. "Him and Bo used to practice curves up there, an' I worried about 'em even then, but he's in no state of mind to be drivin' up there now. If he misses one of those curves, he'll wreck the General for sure! Uncle Jesse, we have to stop him!"

"I know." Pressing the transmission button again, Jesse said, "Try to stay with 'im as best you can, Enos! I'm headed that way now. I'll see if I can find a side road where I can cut 'im off. If we can get that boy pulled over, I'm gonna give him a piece of my mind! Keep me informed."

"I'll do my best, Uncle Jesse."

Jesse almost responded with the usual _I ain't yer Uncle Jesse_, but refrained. At the moment, Enos was his only link to Luke, who was clearly not behaving in a rational manner. He needed the deputy's help, and admonishing him did not seem proper under the circumstances. Snatching the keys off the hook near the kitchen door, he rushed outside and climbed into his white pickup truck.

"Don't fail me now," he begged as he inserted the key in the ignition and turned it. The old truck sputtered and backfired before it kicked into life, and Jesse shifted into drive and accelerated onto the road toward the old mill. Snatching the truck's CB, he asked, "Enos, what's 'e doin' now?"

"Still the same, Uncle Jesse. He's slowin' down a little bit on the curves, but not much, and then he speeds up again on the straightaways. I'm tryin' t' stay up with 'im as much as I can."

Enos continued to follow behind the General, keeping an eye on the plume of dust kicked up by the race car's tires. Every once in a while, whenever the scenery opened up, he managed to catch a glimpse of the orange car in the distance, still traveling at a high rate of speed.

As he neared a particularly sharp curve in the road, Enos said aloud, "Slow down, Luke! Yer goin' too fast for the curve!"

Luke had already realized that, as well as the fact that he was not driving with his usual finesse. He blinked rapidly in an effort to drive away the drowsiness that continued to blur his vision. His reaction time was slower than normal as he gripped the wheel tighter and applied the brakes to slow the vehicle.

General Lee skidded on the loose dirt, sliding sideways as it took the sharp curve. Luke rotated the wheels into the skid, but the rear bumper barely missed one of the trees before he regained control.

_Yer a better driver than this,_ he admonished himself as he stomped the gas pedal again. Glancing in his rear-view mirror, he saw the police cruiser's flashing lights penetrating the cloud of dust in his wake, still behind him, but following at a more sensible speed.

"No one can say you ain't tenacious," Luke said with a trace of admiration for the deputy's resolve. "Jus' like old times."

Wrenching the wheel to the right, he accelerated off the road and cut across an open, unfenced stretch of land toward a narrow tributary called Schubert's Creek. Its nearly insignificant breadth would make it a simple jump, but the execution of it would be complicated by the grove of trees growing on both banks. He would have to line the car up just right to avoid crashing right into one.

He glanced into his mirror again. He was not surprised to find that Enos was still there. With less dust being produced on the grassy field, the cruiser increased its speed, and was gaining rapidly. Luke felt certain that Enos would not attempt a jump in such a dangerous spot, so he accelerated toward it, focusing on the trees he needed to go between on this side and the trees he needed to land between on the other. He adjusted his advance to a slight angle, then braced himself in preparation.

Guided by Luke's experienced hands, the General sped through the trees and roared up the slight incline that would provide the lift he needed. In the creek bed below, two shirtless barefoot young boys, searching for crawdads in the murky water, looked up in astonishment at the underbelly of the vehicle as it soared directly over their heads. The General landed on the other side, successfully maneuvering between two maples on the opposite bank.

"Wow! Did you see that?" one boy asked.

"My daddy tol' me all about that car! That was the General Lee!"

They scrambled up the bank for a better look at the vehicle that had become a local legend.

"Like threadin' a needle!" Luke said to himself, pleased with the car's performance. "General, you are still one helluva piece of machinery, even when yer driver ain't at his best!"

Enos was an excellent driver and a fairly good jumper, but he knew that it would be foolish to try to jump a creek with so many obstacles, and the two young boys peering over the rim of the bank at the race car was the deciding factor. Since they had been squatting down in the creek bottom, Luke clearly had not seen them, but knowing that they were there was enough to bring the deputy to a halt. He skidded to a stop and watched the orange car disappear through the trees. He was shaking his head with dismay as he reached for the CB again. "Uncle Jesse, he's gone plumb crazy. He went off the road at Devil's Curve and jumped Schubert's Crick."

Jesse felt a twinge of fear, visualizing the dense grove of maples and poplars that lined the banks. "Schubert's Crick? What about all them trees?"

"Well, it was close, mighty close, but he didn't hit none of 'em. I hope you don't mind me sayin' so, Uncle Jesse, but Luke's behavin' plumb reckless! Him 'n Bo used to take a lot of chances, but not like this. There was two little boys playin' in that crick when Luke jumped it."

"Are they okay?" Jesse inquired with mounting concern for his nephew's welfare and the welfare of anyone he might encounter on the road.

"Yeah, they're fine. I don't think he saw 'em, but we gotta stop 'im 'fore he either hurts hisself or someone else! I'm gonna hafta cut back to the road and take the bridge. Makin' that jump is just too dangerous."

"All right. I'm comin' up on Pritchard's farm," Jesse said. "I'll cut through it. That'll save me some time getting' up there to ya. When ya catch up to 'im, let me know if he turns, so's I can try an' get in front of 'im."

"Will do, Uncle Jesse."

Amos Pritchard owned a large tract of land on which he ran some dairy cattle and beef cattle, and instead of gates, he had installed cattle guards at several locations, allowing his farming vehicles easy access to the property. When Jesse reached the nearest one, he turned his old truck into the entrance and eased it across the bumpy metal rails, casting an apologetic glance at the _No Trespassing_ sign that was nailed to the fence post beside the cattle guard. Once inside the pasture, he accelerated again and drove right through the middle of it.

A herd of black and white Holstein cows lifted their heads from their grazing and watched with placid brown eyes as the unfamiliar vehicle sped through their pasture. As he neared the other exit on the other side of the property, he saw old Amos standing by the fence looking perplexed. He had obviously seen the vehicle from the barn, and, apparently thinking it was a group of kids planning to spook his cattle for fun, had come out to confront them. Then he recognized the white truck and stopped in surprise. It wasn't every day that his farm was used as a thoroughfare, especially someone as respectful of other's people's property as Jesse Duke.

"Sorry to cut through yer property, Amos!" Jesse hollered out the window as he slowed down to cross the cattle guard. "I got myself an emergency!"

Amos waved to show that he had heard, then pushed back his cap and scratched his head. "Anything I can help ya with?" he shouted back.

"Nope, just the access through yer property."

The truck rattled over the next cattle guard, crossed the dirt access road that separated the herds, and sped into the next pasture, spooking the black angus steers and a few saddle horses, sending them loping away to the other end of the field.

-()-

Alone in the General Lee and with no one behind him now, Luke found a shaded spot beneath a grove of willow trees and allowed the vehicle to coast to a stop beneath it, and shut off the engine.

It was peaceful here, one of the most peaceful spots in Hazzard county. This was his and Cindy's favorite picnic spot, a place where they had shared a meal of her homemade fried chicken, homemade bread, and cans of her favorite soda pop, and had talked for hours beneath the long leafy tendrils that waved gently to and fro in the mild Georgia breeze. Once, he had made her a tiara from the long vines, winding the stems of wild flowers into it. She wore it as proudly as if it had been made of precious jewels.

"I'm so sorry, Cindy," he said, his voice breaking. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry!"

Surrendering to his grief, he folded his arms on the steering wheel, buried his face against his sleeve, and sobbed uncontrollably, expelling the sorrow that had built up inside him over the past two days.

Outside the window, birds chirped in the treetops as they flew to and from their nests in a rust to feed the babies in their nests before the rain showers started, oblivious to the suffering of the man inside the vehicle. And in the distance, thunder rumbled again, low and soft, reverberating across the landscape.

-()-

Cruising rapidly in the direction in which he was certain that Luke had taken, Enos kept a sharp eye out for the tell-tale signs of dust that would pinpoint the General's location, but so far his searching had turned up no sign of the orange vehicle.

"Enos, talk to me," Jesse said over the CB. "Any sign of him?"

"No, no sign of him at all," Enos replied. "I've lost him."

Another familiar voice came over the CB: "Uncle Jesse? Enos? This here's Bo. Daisy just filled me in on what's goin' on. Luke told me once that he 'n Cindy had a favorite picnic spot up near Widow's Leap, a small grove of weeping willow trees. From the direction he's headed, it sounds like he might be goin' up there."

Jesse nodded to himself. That would be just like Luke to seek a private spot where he might feel closer to Cindy. "Good guess, Bo. You could be right."

"I'm not too far from there now," Enos said. "I'll go have a look."

"I can see yer dust up ahead of me, Enos," Jesse said. "I'm maybe three minutes behind ya."

"Look, I'll hop in my truck and join you," Bo suggested, shoving his hand into the pocket of his jeans for his keys.

"No point in that, Bo," Jesse replied. "Yer too far away. 'Sides, Lisa Mae might be needin' ya. Best stay where ya are."

"Her folks just dropped by," he explained. "They understand that Luke's goin' through a rough time right now, and they'll be here if she needs anything. I need to help him through this."

"Okay," Jesse relented, "but I still say it's pointless to drive all the way up here. Why don't you go on over to the house? That's where we'll be headed once we find 'im."

That was not what Bo wanted, but he understood the logic in Jesse's words. It would take him a good half hour to reach the grove of willows that Luke had told him about, and by then they might be back at the farm. "Okay. Headin' over to the house. Over and out." He climbed into his truck and with tires squealing, he sped toward Uncle Jesse's house.

A few minutes later, Luke was roused by the siren from the approaching patrol car. Lifting his head from the steering wheel, he wiped his sleeve across his eyes to dry them and looked to his right, the direction of the siren and saw Enos's car speeding toward him.

"I see him!" Enos announced to the others on the CB. "He's parked right under them willows, right where Bo said he'd be."

In his truck, traveling toward the farmhouse, Bo gave a nod of satisfaction, pleased that his hunch had panned out. "Enos, better turn off the siren and approach him slowly," he advised. "When we were younger, hearin' a siren sort of triggered our flight reflex, so if he hears ya comin', he might take off again."

Enos turned off the siren, but the damage was already done.

A surge of annoyance shot through Luke at being disturbed once again, bringing with it an irrational response. Instead of waiting for the deputy and facing the consequences of his behavior, he turned the key in the ignition and shifted the car into drive. Spraying grass and dirt from the tires behind him, he sped away from the police vehicle.

"Uh-oh," Enos said in response to Bo's suggestion. "Too late. He's takin' off again! Oh, Lord!" he added, breathlessly, realizing the direction the orange car had taken.

Jesse didn't like the sound of that. "What is it?" he asked, alarmed by the fear he heard in the deputy's voice. "Enos! What's going on?"

There was panic in the deputy's voice as he replied, "He's goin' straight for Widow's Leap!"

Jesse's blood turned to ice water. Widow's Leap was a rocky cliff without much depth, but according to local legend, a young woman, grieving over the husband who had been killed at Spotsylvania during the Civil War, had thrown herself over the edge so that she might be reunited with her lost love, giving the cliff its name. Jesse did not know if the story was true or not, but he was well aware that traveling at a high speed in a vehicle, the fall would almost certainly be fatal.

His thumb hovered on the CB button without pressing it. "No, Luke, don't do this!" he pleaded, even though he knew that his nephew could not hear him.

Bo was listening to the transmissions with disbelief, and rejected any notion that his cousin would commit suicide. "No way," he said into the CB. "He'll pull up before he gets to the cliff."

Luke was aware of the flashing lights on the police car behind him, and knew that he was facing a stiff citation for traffic violations, but he didn't care. He paid little attention to landmarks, and hardly even noticed where he was or where he was going. He was simply driving, a purely mechanical activity.

He brushed his hand across his eyes in an attempt to clear his vision. Directly ahead of him was a huge old oak tree. He swerved abruptly, narrowly missing the massive, gnarled trunk. The dry grass provided little traction for the General's wheels, and he skidded slightly before regaining control.

The fatigue that he had been fighting was finally overpowering him. His vision swam in and out of focus, and he blinked and shook his head in an attempt to clear it, but his body was rebelling against him, demanding the rest that he was refusing to give it. He pressed the accelerator harder, unaware of the danger that loomed just ahead.

Through the CB, Jesse and Bo could hear Enos shouting frantically, "Uncle Jesse! He ain't pullin' up! He's goin' straight for the cliff! Looks like 'e's gonna try an' kill hisself!"

Bo reached for the CB microphone again. "Luke wouldn't do that. I know him! If he's going for the cliff, then he's unaware that it's there."

"He's lived in there here parts all 'is life," Enos reminded him. "He _must_ know it's there! He's goin' straight for it!"

"No!" Bo contradicted. "I won't accept that! I'm tellin' ya, Luke would never deliberately take his own life! Honk yer horn or somethin' to get his attention! See if that pulls him up."

Enos responded instantly, pressing his hand hard against the horn. It blared loudly, spanning the distance that separated him and the General Lee, and the distinctly different sound caught Luke's attention. Enos pressed it again and again in an effort to alert him to the fact that something was wrong.

As the world swam back into focus, Luke saw the cliff looming just ahead, and realized where he was. Beyond the edge, there was nothing but open space. In moments, he and the General would plunge all the way to the bottom.

"_Damn!"_

With his eyes wide with horror, Luke slammed on the brakes. The tires locked as momentum and the loose dirt and gravel pulled the vehicle closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. Frantically, he spun the steering wheel, turning the car to the left for greater resistance, hoping it would not cause the vehicle to flip over. The General Lee skidded sideways, leaving long skid marks on the dirt, and sending up a fountain of billowing dust. Finally, after several terrifying moments, the General Lee came to an abrupt halt near the edge of the cliff, sending a spray of dirt and gravel over the edge.

Suddenly, there was near-silence. The only sounds were the idling of the powerful engine and Luke gasping for breath. His heart pounded wildly in his ears with the realization of what he had nearly done, and when he glanced to his right, he saw that he was less than six yards from the edge of the cliff, a realization that left him feeling light-headed, weak, and a little sick. Closing his eyes with a low groan, he rested his forehead on the steering wheel, fighting the nausea in his stomach and feeling grateful that he had not eaten.

After resting for several moments, he reached down and turned off the engine, then slowly pulled himself out the window of the vehicle, and staggered a few steps on wobbly, rubbery legs. His body shaking uncontrollably from the overwhelming exhaustion and from the knowledge that he would have been dead at that very moment had he gone over the cliff. Finally, his legs gave out completely, and he sank heavily into a seated position on the hard ground. Leaning forward, he wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to control the shaking.

Dust drifted lazily along the road, obscuring the vision of the wide-eyed deputy who continued to hurry toward the cliff. He had seen the General Lee skidding sideways before it disappeared into a cloud of dust, but had heard no sound of a crash to indicate that the General had plunged over the edge. Tensely, he listened carefully for any sound that would indicate the fate of Luke Duke and the General Lee.

"What's going on, Enos?" Jesse asked, urgently on the CB, alarmed by the silence on the radio. "Talk to me!"

Enos snatched up the microphone. "I can't see 'im, Uncle Jesse! I can't see 'im!"

Jesse's heart clinched with fear. "Did he go over?" The question was spoken quietly, dreading the answer.

"I can't tell. I didn't hear a crash, or nothin', but . . . ." A speck of orange appeared through the swirling, drifting dust. "What a minute. I think . . . ." The dust continued to thin, and through it he saw the bright orange car sitting at the edge of the cliff. "I see the General!" he shouted, excitedly. "I see it! It's parked right on the edge."

"What about Luke?" Bo asked. "Can you see him? Is he all right?"

A moment later, Luke came into view sitting on the ground near the race car.

"Yes! I see 'im! Looks like he's okay!"

At exactly the same moment, miles apart, Jesse and Bo had the same reaction. They both closed their eyes, briefly, and offered a prayer of gratitude. "Thank you, Lord."

Enos slowed the car and stopped a short distance away from the man who was still seated on the ground. After a moment's hesitation, he shut off the engine, opened the car door and got out, wondering how he should approach him. Luke was typically very affable, but something in his posture suggested to the deputy that he would not welcome intrusion.

"Luke, are you okay?" he asked, hesitantly taking a few steps toward him. It seemed a stupid question even as he spoke the words; of course he wasn't okay, or he would not have been driving like a maniac and he wouldn't be sitting on the ground like that. But it was the only thing he could think to say at that moment. "Luke?"

Luke did not answer, but continued to sit silently, rocking slightly back and forth in rhythm to his rapid breathing. He heard the query from the concerned deputy, but at that moment he was unable to find his voice.

Enos stopped a short distance away, feeling helpless, uncertain what to do, so he hung back, waiting for Jesse to arrive. Jesse would know what to do, he was certain of that.

He did not have long to wait. Only a few moments later, he heard the sound of the old white truck approaching, and he watched as it stopped beside his police car. Jesse got out, his eyes fixed on his nephew. "How is he?" he asked.

"Well, physically he seems fine," Enos replied. He gestured toward Luke. "That's how I found 'im. Jus' sittin' there. I spoke to 'im a few times, but he ain't said nothin'. I think 'e hears me, though."

"Luke?" Jesse spoke softly as he approached his nephew. "Luke, its yer Uncle Jesse." Luke did not answer, but he turned his head slightly toward him, indicating that he had heard. Reaching out, he knelt down beside him as placed his callused hand on his shoulder, and felt the trembling. "Enos, you got a blanket in yer car?"

"Yeah. We keep 'em in case of accidents and stuff."

"Get one, please."

Enos ran back to the car, popped open the trunk and withdrew a blanket, which he carried to Jesse. Jesse opened it up and draped it around his nephew, drawing it together under his chin, an action which seemed to revive him somewhat. He looked up, his exhausted, bloodshot eyes meeting the worried eyes of his uncle.

"I almost went over the edge," he said, softly, his voice shaking. "I forgot all about that cliff bein' there!"

"I know," Jesse said, his eyes filling with tears. He tightened his grip on Luke's shoulder.

"How could I forget such a thing? I shouldn't've been drivin'," he admitted, shaking his head with regret. "I'm so tired." He sighed heavily and rubbed his fingers in his eyes. "I'm just so tired."

"I know ya are, son. Ya ain't slept in days. It was only a matter o' time 'fore it all caught up with ya." Jesse placed his hand behind Luke's neck, and pulled his unresisting body against him. "Don't ever do somethin' like this to me again, ya hear? I couldn't bear it if I lost ya."

Luke leaned into him, welcoming the older man's embrace. "I'm sorry. I guess I wasn't payin' attention to where I was headed. I was just runnin'. I don't even know what I was runnin' from." His throat constricted, painfully. "I just miss her so much." Bowing his head, silent tears spilled from his eyes.

Enos lowered his gaze and moved respectfully back to the patrol car, where he radioed Daisy and Bo to let them know that Luke was okay.

"I know it hurts," Jesse said gently. "But you still have me 'n Bo 'n Daisy, and we all love ya, too. And you have that beautiful little boy, who is a living breathing part of Cindy. I couldn't love ya more if'n ya was my own son. I got the same amount of love for all you youngin's, but you were my first, and there is always somethin' special about the first. An' when I'm gone, it'll fall to you t' hold the family t'gether. You'll take my place as the family patriarch."

Luke's tears gradually abated, and he was quiet for a long time, content to remain in his uncle's comforting embrace, and thinking about the things Jesse had said. He could not imagine taking over the reins as the family patriarch, but deep in his mind somewhere, he presumed he had always known that eventually he would do just that. At the moment, however, he had serious doubts of his qualifications to be the head of the Duke clan. His mistake, his carelessness, and his lack of attentiveness had nearly cost him his life.

Jesse seemed to read his mind and his doubts. "We all make mistakes, Luke. The thing that determines what kind o' man ya are is how ya learn from 'em."

Luke nodded his understanding. The trembling had subsided and he drew back, breaking the embrace. "I'm okay, now," he assured his uncle. He struggled to his feet, stumbling slightly. Jesse grasped his arm to steady him, but Luke nodded and raised one hand, indicating that he was okay.

With Luke on his feet again, Enos got out of the car and approached him, feeling guilty about addressing the issue at that moment, but he knew it had to be done. "Luke, I outta arrest you fer the way you was drivin'. That was plumb foolishness, and you could'a hurt someone. There was two little boys playin' in that crick you jumped."

Luke's surprise was genuine. "There was? I didn't see 'em."

"I figured ya didn't." Enos shrugged, and glanced at Jesse and then back at Luke, who appeared genuinely remorseful. "Well, there weren't no harm done, an' you prob'ly gave them the thrill o' their lives, seein' the General an' all. I'll get in trouble with Rosco if he finds out about this, but I'm gonna let you off with a warnin' this time. After every thing ya been through, I just don't have the heart to take ya in. Just don't do nothin' like this again, hear?"

"I'm sorry, Enos," Luke said, sincerely, realizing the uncomfortable position he had placed the deputy in. "You're right. I was behavin' foolishly. You'd be justified in haulin' me in, but . . . I appreciate that you ain't." He shrugged, uncomfortably. "Thanks for honkin' yer horn when you did. It brung me back to my senses. I wasn't thinkin' about that cliff bein' there, an' I'd've gone over, if not for that. You saved my life."

"I wish I could take credit for that, but I cain't. It was Bo that suggested it. He seemed to know that you was unaware of that cliff ahead o' ya."

Luke closed his eyes, briefly. _Bless you, Bo._ "Still, you're the one who did the honkin', and I do appreciate it."

Enos smiled, and gave a single nod of acknowledgment.

Luke started toward the General, but Jesse clutched his arm and pulled him back around. "No you ain't. Enos, would you call Cooter 'n have him come pick up the General?" To Luke, he said, "You ain't in no shape to be drivin'."

Luke knew that was true. Without a word of protest, he climbed in the passenger side of Jesse's truck and waited for the older man to join him.

"I owe ya, Enos," Jesse said, meaningfully.

"Jus' doin' my duty, Uncle Jesse."

This time, Jesse said it in a gruff but friendly voice. "I ain't yer Uncle Jesse." Then he patted Enos's upper arm with great affection, and walked back toward his pickup truck.

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

"I don't know what got into me," Luke said quietly.

Back at the Duke farm, he was seated on the hood of the General Lee with his legs folded beneath him, Indian style. Bo was sitting beside him with one foot propped on the front bumper, listening with solemn interest as his cousin described his wild chase through the countryside. Uncle Jesse sat on the rear of Daisy's jeep, Dixie, while Daisy sat on the stoop near the open door, where she could hear the baby if he awakened.

Luke shook his head slowly in a bewildered fashion, and continued, "The weird thing was, for a while when while I was driving the General with Enos chasing me, I actually forgot everything that happened over the past couple'a days. It was like it was before, when you an' me was bein' chased on a regular basis. I don't really even remember how I got up there to that cliff. One minute, I was just drivin' aimlessly tryin' to get away from Enos, and the next thing I knew, I was headed straight for nowhere."

"Cooter said that yer skid marks went to within five feet of the rim. There's a lot of sand and loose dirt on that cliff," Bo said, thoughtfully. "Yer lucky ya didn't skid right on over the edge."

"That's true," Luke agreed. "Someone was lookin' out for me today."

Jesse had listened without interrupting or offering comments until he was finished speaking. "You really scared me, Luke," he said, quietly. "For a while there, I thought . . . well, I thought maybe you was tryiin' t' do yerself in."

Luke shook his head again in response to Jesse's comment, and a trace of queasiness reentered his stomach at the thought of how close he had come to losing his life. "Nah, I wasn't even thinkin' about that. When Enos jolted me back to my senses with that car horn of his and I saw that cliff right in front of me, I tell ya, my stomach jumped right up in my throat. I don't mind tellin' ya, that's the scardest I've ever been. I'm sorry, ya'll. Sorry it took something like this to bring me back to my senses."

Bo slapped an affectionate hand on his shoulder. "You're forgiven, Cuz. Jus' don't put us through somethin' like this again, hear?"

Luke gave him a slight smile. "I'll try not to. 'Sides, _you're_ the one who usually does the irrational things, 'n I'm the one bailin' ya out. Feels strange bein' on the other end of it." He fell silent for a long time, eyes averted as he pondered something serious. Then he finally asked, "Uncle Jesse, is our family cursed or something?"

Jesse looked up, surprised. "Cursed? What do you mean?"

"Are all Duke children destined to grow up without parents? Mine, Bo's, and Daisy's parents all passed on 'fore we was old enough to even remember 'em. And now my son has already lost his mama. How much more does this family have to give?"

"Yer generation was hit hard, that's a fact," Jesse admitted. "I don't know why bad things happen to good folks, and yer mamas an' daddies were good folks, as good as they come, but it weren't no curse that caused it. Sometimes, things jes' happen, and ya got no answers for 'em. Which brings me back to you, Luke. You ain't to blame for Cindy's death. I want you to understand that. It was a terrible, tragic thing, but no one knew it would happen. No one could've known."

Luke looked away, that uncomfortable tightness coming to his throat again, as he gazed toward that ever-advancing rain cloud. It was only a few miles away now, and he could see the curtain of rain that swept toward the ground in a wide transparent veil. Now that he had finally allowed the tears to reach the surface, it was difficult to shut them off again, and his eyes began to well.

Bo averted his eyes, pretending he had not noticed the tears, but Jesse's gaze was steady on his older nephew. "Luke, listen to me. The doctors didn't even know it would happen, so how could you? You gotta let it go, son. Quit beatin' yerself up over this, and stop takin' the responsibility for what happened. It was just one o' them unfortunate things that sometimes happens. No one was to blame."

"We should'a waited before havin' kids," Luke insisted. "If we'd waited, maybe the doctor's would'a noticed it during a check-up or something. Maybe there would'a been some symptom that would'a told her there was somethin' wrong."

"I spoke to the doctors afterward, Luke. They said it was somethin' she was prob'ly born with. Cindy took good care o' herself, havin' regular checkups an' all. If they hadn't noticed it by then, it's unlikely they ever would've found it. Now, I know that the normal reaction to somethin' like this is to try an' find blame, someone ya can take all that anger and frustration out on. But in this case, there is no one. Least of all, yerself. Waitin' wouldn't 've prevented it from eventually happenin', and I think you know that."

Luke sighed heavily, as if trying to expel all the weight he had been carrying the past two days and brushed the back of his hand across his eyes to dry them as he forced back the tears that had threatened to follow the first. "Damn it," he muttered. "I'm like a leaky faucet that I can't shut off."

"Luke," Jesse scolded in a kind voice. "You know I don't hold with cussin'."

Luke glanced at him sharply in response to the gentle reprimand, but his respect for the old man was so great that he was compelled to apologize. "Sorry, Uncle Jesse. Yer right. I just felt there had to be someone to blame for her dyin', and I convinced myself that the only person who could'a prevented it was me. But . . . I guess there was no one at fault."

"That's the gospel-truth, Luke," Jesse said, solemnly. "An' now that you've accepted that fact, you can start healin'."

At that moment, it was hard for Luke to imagine ever feeling whole again, but he hoped his uncle was right, that the pain of losing Cindy would ease, and that someday when he thought of her, he remembered only the good times, not the way she had died.

"Ya know, Luke," Daisy said, interrupting his thoughts. "The hospital called while you was gone. They wanna know if you've named the baby yet. They said they need it for their records."

"Guess I'd better start thinkin' on it," Luke replied. "I'll make a decision 'n call 'em in the morning."

"You mean you ain't got any ideas yet?" Bo asked with a smile. "We don't want that poor baby growin' up bein' called 'No-name Duke'!"

"Don't rush me," Luke told him with a hint of his old humor returning. "I want it to be a good one. A name that has meanin'."

The family fell silent for a long time, listening to the thunder rumbling. Soothed by the sounds of nature, Luke yawned wearily and allowed his eyes to close just to rest them for a few minutes. As Daisy looked over at storm, she saw a bolt of lightning zigzag across the blackened horizon.

"Wow, that's movin' right on in," she said. "I think we'd better start getting' these cars under cover." She got up off the stoop and moved toward her jeep.

"I'll look after the baby while ya'll's doing that," Jesse said, moving toward the house.

Luke and Bo slid off the hood of the General, but Bo placed a hand on his cousin's shoulder. "You go on inside and get some rest," he instructed. "You look like somethin' the cat drug in. I'll move the General back under the port."

Luke nodded. "Thanks, Bo. For everything," he added, meaningfully.

Bo swatted his arm, affectionately, then fished his car keys out of his pocket and slid through the General's open window. Not a moment too soon. The sky opened up and the rain poured as Bo moved the race car back under its protective awning. Daisy drove the Dixie jeep into the barn and parked it in front of the old tractor.

Inside the house, Luke went straight to his old bedroom, peeled off his clothes, and climbed into bed. Lulled by the rain pattering on the roof and the windows, he was soon fast asleep.

-()-

It was dark when Luke awakened, and he lay quietly for a long time in the familiar room, listening to the silence in the old farmhouse. The storm had moved on hours ago, leaving behind a countryside that smelled refreshed and clean. His curtains were drawn, but he could tell by the narrow band of silver that shown through the gap where they did not quite meet, that the moon had come out. Outside the window, crickets were chirping their nightly chorus.

He had slept through supper, and his stomach was beginning to rumble, demanding to be fed. He thought he was vaguely aware of Jesse opening his door sometime during the early evening, presumably to check on him, but he had quickly drifted back into a restful, dreamless sleep, and his uncle had elected not to disturb him.

After a few minutes of fighting the hunger, he tossed back the sheet and sat up, thinking that maybe there was still some left-over ham in the fridge. Yawning, he dragged his fingers through his unruly brown hair and glanced at the clock on the bedside table: One forty-five. He had been asleep nearly eleven hours, longer than he had slept in years.

Standing up, he flipped on the lamp and pulled on a pair of faded blue jeans, then padded barefoot into the living room. But as he passed the door to Daisy's bedroom, he stopped to look at it, drawn to it by an irresistible force. After a moment, he quietly pushed the door open and peered inside.

Daisy's room was awash in silvery moonlight that shown through her window, and he could easily see her still form on the bed, lying on her side. Her deep, even breathing indicated that she was sound asleep. His eyes drifted toward the crib at the foot of the bed, and the tiny mound that lay on the crib's mattress.

He had never once violated the privacy of Daisy's bedroom, but this time he knew he must. Tiptoeing quietly past her bed, grimacing slightly as the floorboards creaked under each step, he approached the crib and stood beside it for a long time, gazing silently at the infant that lay there. He was about the same size as the Thumbelina doll that Aunt Martha had given Daisy for Christmas one year, and he fondly recalled that she had carried the doll around all year to keep from hurting her aunt's feelings, even she had preferred joining her cousins as they constructed roads in the dirt for their Hot Wheels and Tonka trucks. The doll was carefully stored in a drawer in Daisy's dresser, one of her most cherished gifts from her late aunt.

The baby's hand twitched slightly in his sleep, and Luke knew that he would be waking himself up soon for his feeding. Glancing over his shoulder at Daisy's inert form, he understood that he had placed an unfair burden on her of caring for his child. She loved the baby, and had willingly taken over all the duties of feeding and changing and cuddling, but it was a duty he knew he must learn to do.

Gently, he slipped one hand beneath the baby's neck to support his head and the other hand under his lower back, and lifted him out of the crib. The infant squirmed his tiny body as he slowly came awake, a moving, living mass so unlike Daisy's inanimate doll. Lifting the child upright, Luke laid him against his bare chest so that his small head was resting beneath his chin. Turning, he crept toward the door.

The baby made a soft whimpering noise. "Shh," Luke whispered, stoking its back, soothingly. "Don't want to wake up yer Aunt Daisy."

Unknown to Luke, Daisy was already awake. She had awakened abruptly when one of those floorboards had creaked under his foot as he had crept into the room. After a moment's start at finding a man in her room, she had recognized him, but she continued to lie motionless, watching as he had observed the baby in the crib and finally lifted him from it. A pleased smile came to her lips, satisfied that Luke was making the effort to take an active role in parenting his son.

Still moving quietly, he slipped from the room and pulled the door closed behind him, making sure that it latched soundlessly.

Back in the living room, Luke flipped on one of the table lamps, and shifted the infant so that he was lying on his left arm, face up. His eyes were open, looking up at him in an unfocused gaze, and Luke smiled in spite of himself.

"Okay, little Jesse," he whispered. "I'm new at this, so yer gonna have to be patient with me while I learn the ropes."

The baby responded by squirming, as if uncomfortable, and whimpered again. Luke realized what the baby needed.

"I guess the first thing you need is changin', right? Okay, I think I can do that." He glanced back at Daisy's door, where he knew an opened package of diapers was sitting beneath the crib, but he did not want to risk disturbing Daisy by reentering her room. He remembered that Uncle Jesse had purchased a new package the previous morning, so he looked around the room, wondering where he had left them. "Now where did Uncle Jesse put those new diapers?" His eyes came to rest on the grocery sack on the kitchen cabinet near the sink. "Ah! There they are."

With the baby still nestled on the crook of his arm, he moved into the kitchen and removed the package of disposable diapers from the paper sack. The baby continued to squirm, and made little whimpering noises to express his discomfort.

"It's okay," Luke assured him. "I'm gonna change ya into something more comfortable, but ya gotta give me a minute. I'm a complete novice at this, but I think I can follow the directions on the package." He started to lay the baby down on the sofa's cushion to change him, then thought better of it. "Maybe we'd better lay somethin' under ya, ya think?"

Leaving the package of diapers on the coffee table, he went to the closet and found a clean towel, and carried it back to the sofa. Sitting down sideways on the cushion, he spread the towel next to him, and placed the baby on it.

He was temporarily stymied by the footed sleeper in which Daisy had dressed him, until he found the snaps that secured it, and carefully unfastened them and pushed it up to his waist. The diaper was next, and he paused to draw a deep breath, not knowing what he was going to find inside it.

With fumbling, inexperienced fingers, he unfastened the tabs and cautiously pulled the front of the diaper down, then released the breath he was holding. "Whew! You're just wet, is all. Glad we got to start with somethin' small my first time."

He removed the diaper completely and rolled it up, then took it into the bathroom, where he dropped it into the trash sack. While there, he dampened a washcloth with warm water, and used it to clean the baby, then dried him and, carefully following the directions on the package, he positioned the clean diaper under him.

"What'll they think of next?" he wondered aloud as he secured the tabs. "When Bo was a baby – 'course he was quite a bit older'n you are when he came here -- they was still using cloth diapers. I wasn't very old, mind you, only a few years outta diapers myself, but I can remember Aunt Martha washing them things every day o' the week. I use t' like to swing on 'em when they was dryin' on the clothesline, and sometimes I pulled em' right off the clothespins, and she had to wash 'em over." He paused, thinking back to those days and his patient aunt. "Guess I was a bit of a handful. Nowadays, ya just wad 'em up and throw 'em away."

With the diaper now in place, Luke gazed down at his son the wonder of a new father, and observed every detail of the tiny fingers and toes, the tiny upturned nose, the silky brown hair, and the bright blue eyes.

"Everything's so tiny," he marveled. He gently took the infant's miniature hand. "You even got tiny little fingernails. God, you're so beautiful. I can see why Cindy wanted you so bad. I wish you could'a grow'd up knowin' yer mama, but when yer old enough, I'll tell you all about her."

Repositioning the sleeper, he fastened the snaps and picked the baby up again. Placing him against his chest again, he carried him into the kitchen and set a pan of water on the stove to heat. He knew that Daisy kept the formula in bottles in the refrigerator for the night feedings, so he opened the door and withdrew one, and placed it in the pan of water to warm it.

While it heated, he found some leftover chicken and sliced ham in the refrigerator, and nibbled on it cold as he constantly walked slowly around the kitchen to keep the baby from getting restless.

When the bottle was warm enough, he tested it on his wrist, as he had seen Daisy do. He wasn't sure exactly what temperature it was supposed to be, but it seemed logical that it shouldn't be too cold or too hot. When it felt right, he carried it into the living room again and sat down on the sofa. When he was comfortable, with little Jesse nestled securely on one arm, he pressed the nipple against the baby's lips, and smiled when he took it in his mouth and began to suck, eagerly.

Luke smiled. "Hey, you gotta hearty appetite there, don't'cha?"

-()-

In his bedroom, the elder Jesse Duke awakened with a start, uncertain what it was that had awakened him. Raising his head off the pillow, he listened carefully. A man's voice, speaking softly, filtered through the closed door. Lowering his eyes, he noticed the narrow strip of light shining beneath the door. Someone was up.

Tossing back the blanket, he eased himself slowly out of bed, careful not to bring discomfort to his aching old back. Dressed in his nightshirt, he padded quietly to the door and opened it a crack, peering through the narrow slit. What he saw brought a smile to his lips.

Luke was sitting on the sofa, feeding his son. For the first time in days, a smile turned up the corners of his mouth, and he was speaking softly to the child.

"You know, when you was growin' in yer mama's belly, I never gave much thought on what t' call ya. See, I was leavin' that up to her. She was more knowin' on things like that than me, and I knew she'd pick out a good name for ya. Trouble is, she never got a chance to tell me what it was. Oh, I know she had several that she was considerin', but I don't know for sure that she'd made up her mind."

He pulled the bottle away and turned it upright to check on the progress. The baby worked his lips and puckered his little brow, as if wondering where it had gone.

"Yer a regular little chow hound," Luke said, returning the bottle to the baby's mouth. "Anyways, one name yer mama was thinkin' on was Luke Junior, but I ain't too keen on that. I don't want you goin' through life bein' called Junior. So, I decided that you should have a good, noble name befittin' a Duke, a name ya can wear real proud-like. And I can't think of a more noble man in this whole county than yer great uncle Jesse. I know you will bring honor to his name, just like he done. Ya see, he didn't have no fancy education or nothin' like that, but he's the smartest man I ever met. I learned more just watchin' him than I did in all my years o' schoolin'."

Still concealed behind the door, Jesse felt his heart swell with pride as he listened to his nephew's words.

Little Jesse finished the bottle, and Luke set it on the coffee table. Draping a towel over his shoulder, he placed the infant against it and patted his back until he burped.

"Oh, that was a big one!" Luke exclaimed, quietly. The baby was then cuddled on his arm again, and Luke gently pressed his lips against the baby's forehead. "You go to sleep now, little Jesse. I'll be right here keepin' watch over ya."

Uncle Jesse quietly eased the door closed again. Luke was going to be just fine.

- The End -

**A/N:** Yes, I know the ending was a little sappy, but with a baby involved you knew it was going to be dripping with sweetness. Hope you enjoyed it, and thanks again for all the kind reviews.


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